I Get By
by ForsakenKalika
Summary: When David is asked by his father to see a psychiatrist, he agrees. But the woman he sees is even crazier than he is!
1. Chapter 1

So… this has been rattling around in my brain for the past couple of days. This hasn't been beta'd, so forgive me, but drop me a line and let me know what you think. This may get serious at some points, or it may become fluffy. I tend to write like I talk, so….

Disclaimer: I definitely do not own anything Glee-related (um, except Season One on BluRay), and any songs used are the properties of their respective artists.

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><p>I Get By<p>

When Paul Karofsky cleared his throat, Dave knew it was a quiet demand to listen. He raised his head off the pillow of his hands as he lay on his bed. His mother had picked up the last of her belongings the night before, and the house was eerily silent after having been filled with loud arguments for weeks.

"What's up, dad?" David tried to keep his voice light, tried to seem like the son his father had always never known. Paul raised an eyebrow as if to ask permission to enter, and Dave sat up, waving him in. His father paused, looking around, no doubt reliving the day he found his son unresponsive on the floor of his closet. The older man shook his head slightly and continued into his son's room.

"May I sit?" He asked, already lowering himself onto Dave's bed. Dave pushed himself to sitting and busied his hands with smoothing his comforter as he waited for his father to speak. "David, as you know, part of your… rehabilitation… you need to see someone."

Dave nodded. 'Someone,' meant a shrink. Just another person to dissect him and see what they wanted to see. Another person to look at David Karofsky and judge him. Just the thought of one more lie coming from his mouth, one more disappointment, made his eyes sting and his throat close up. His father's hand on Dave's knee made his head snap up.

"I want you to meet someone." Dave nodded once more, unable to refuse the conflicting hope and despair in his father's voice. He owed him this much.

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><p>While he knew there were other places than the affluent suburb in which he lived (his brief stint as Santana's beard had taken him to Lima Heights Adjacent more times than he was comfortable with), David was not prepared for his father to drive their two-year-old Lexus into the trailer park on the south end of Lima. The dingy yellow sign reading 'Lima Creekside Estates' was almost a running gag in and of itself, hanging from one eye-hook with weeds clinging for dear life at the base of its supports. These were hardly estates.<p>

They slowly crept past a few older buildings, apartments, it seemed, and the roadway opened into the main park. He noticed the trailers were evenly situation, all their lawns groomed neatly. It was nothing like the parks shown on tv or in the movies. His father pulled into a driveway alongside an early 2000 model car.

"Here we are," he announced to the car, as though it weren't obvious they had come to a stop. Paul turned to his son, "David, just… for me, just try." When his son barely nodded his head, the elder Karofsky turned off the ignition and opened his door. "I think you'll like her."

The two men walked up a mismatched path of cracked paving stones and onto a screened-in porch. As Paul knocked, Dave took the opportunity to observe the lot. The mobile home itself was lined on one side with a small garden. A fence lined the boundaries of the yard, effectively separating it from the road, and childrens toys were scattered in the between the garden and the barrier. Obviously, this woman had kids, or at least family with children. He could only imagine that the backyard was littered with more playthings.

Dave turned back as he heard the doorknob jiggle. The door opened slightly to reveal a shorter woman, of about five-foot-six. Her hair was up in a bandana, reminding him of Lucille Ball. Her brown eyes were rimmed in black kohl and heavily shadowed in gradients of green and turquoise. Piercings adorned her lip and eyebrow, and he was fairly certain he saw the edge of a tattoo beneath her collar.

"Paul?" His father nodded, and a grin split her face. "And you must be David," she remarked, turning to him. "Come on in, gentlemen. I was just tidying up." Paul smiled back, and quietly thanked the slight woman. David took his time entering the home, stepping one foot, then the other over the threshold.

His hazel eyes took in the small living room conjoined to the kitchen. The walls were a light blue, reminiscent of the summer sky, and the floors were laminate hardwood of a chocolate finish. He noticed there was a distinct lack of furniture, excepting an overstuffed beige microfiber sofa. His perusal was interrupted by his father's voice.

"-Vid?"

"Huh?" He asked eloquently, snapping back to attention. David walked toward the kitchen, pausing again to look around. The hardwood continued in and down the hall past the kitchen. The soapstone countertops lined the wall on the far side, stopping at the half wall that split the living room and kitchen to create a more defined space. This woman must watch a lot of HGTV and DIY Network, as all the upgrades were relatively new. The cabinetry, he observed, sitting at the booth set into the corner toward the front of the mobile home, was a Mahogany finish to compliment the mossy tone on the walls.

"Did you want anything to drink? There's juice and milk in the fridge, and I have a k-cup, so you can pick whatever you like for hot drinks." She responded. Her tone of voice was deeper, reminding Dave of Ms. Holiday, the substitute teacher. He caught a flash of metal in her mouth as she spoke, and when she turned back around to prepare her own drink, he turned to his dad.

Frantically signaling with his hands, he made to ask, 'WHO THE HELL IS THIS LADY?' Unfortunately, said lady was apparently also a ninja, as she slid into the booth seat opposite him, mid arm flail.

"My name is Sam Collins. Well," She grinned into her mug, "Samantha, but no one calls me that." She set the mug down, which he now noticed read, 'While you were busy judging people, your skeletons fell out of your closet,' in spooky lettering. "Technically, I'm a psychiatrist, but in actuality, I think I'm more of a guidance counselor. Without the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

Dave snorted. "You know Miss Pillsbury?"

"We had the same dentist," Sam replied. "I started seeing a different one when I started having weird gas fantasies about elaborate musical numbers." Dave remembered Santana raving about some Britney Spears thing after seeing the dentist; it could only be the same guy.

She scratched her ear, and continued, her words picking up speed like a hyperactive child. "So I was thinking you and I could hang out for a bit while your dad finalizes some papers with your mom, and then you can decide if you want to hang out here, and then we'll work out a schedule." Sam turned to Paul, "I'm not covered by a lot of HMO's, but as I mentioned on the phone, I charge by the week and I'm very fair." Her head whipped back in Dave's direction, and the bandana slipped a bit, revealing a few turquoise strands beneath."So, whaddya say?"

"Uh…" Dave looked at his dad for direction, and Paul shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

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><p>An hour later, the questionable hair had been let loose, and Dave found himself staring at it more often than not. "It's Aquamarine. It was supposed to be purple," Sam grinned up at him as they walked up to the edge of the road to wait for her daughter's school bus. "C'est la vie, non?"<p>

His head was still spinning from the last sixty minutes spent with this lady. As soon as his father had left, Sam threw an xbox 360 controller his way and announced Rage Multiplayer. When he had asked what that had to do with therapy, she smirked and replied, "What? You don't play video games when you're stressed?"

When he factually told her mid-frag that she was bat-shit crazy, she came back with, "You're suicidal, so what does that say for you're sanity?" He was pretty sure a therapist wasn't supposed to talk to her patients like that.

"Dude, seriously? Stop looking at me like I'm the weirdest ant in the farm." She pulled a cigarette out as they walked up. Dave shook his head when she offered one up to him, and the short blue-ette shrugged. "Had to offer. You're 18, you know? And even if you weren't, you're old enough to try and kill yourself aggressively, figured why not passively, too?"

Dave halted his steps right then and there, bus stop in plain sight. "Why do you keep bringing that up?" Seriously, it was getting annoying to have someone constantly remind him that he was a fuck up. He couldn't be straight, he couldn't even be gay right, and he fucked up hanging himself.

Sam rounded on him, stabbing her cigarette with every other syllable. "Really, dude? Here's how I figure it; everyone who knows is already thinking about it, they're already making their mind up what they think about you and your decisions. At least I'm honest. And, quite frankly, I think it's interesting how much it bothers you." She spun again and began walking, her small feet crunching heavily on the gravel. "You act like you're more ashamed that you even tried. If that's the case, you didn't even want to die. You just wanted the pain to go away."

His legs wouldn't move, and her petite form moved further ahead of him. "Oh, and David? Think about what you want for dinner while you lag behind. My kids are gonna be hungry when they get back, and I'm gonna need your help."

What the fuck was wrong with this chick?

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><p>Sam's daughter was even weirder than her mom. The second grader was working on more advanced forms of math, and, as Dave helped her remember some basic rules and do her homework (how had he gotten roped into that again?), she turned her clear blue eyes on him.<p>

"It's a shame you like boys." David, who was already predisposed to wince when the subject was brought up by adults, did so, and slouched forward subconsciously.

"Why's that?" he replied quietly. He wasn't used to kids, and he certainly didn't know how to handle any sort of response she might have. He braced himself for the worst, unaware that Sam was watching them from the hall.

"Because my Math teacher would love you." The little brunette tossed her hair, and he saw streaks of red and purple underneath. Finally, she figured out the answer to the problem she was working on, and chewing on her eraser, turned to regard the larger boy. "If it makes you feel any better, I think my chorus teacher might be gay. I'd hook you up, but he's old, too."

A snort erupted from David and he reddened. "And I suppose I'm not old?" He wouldn't even ask her about the gay thing.

"Nope. Well," she chewed her lip, "you're older than I am, but so's my mom, and she's pretty kick ass." A gangly arm pumped its fist in the air and Dave laughed.

"Are you supposed to cuss?" A shrug answered him. "You know – eh.."

"Janis," she supplied.

"You know, Janis, it's said that only the unintelligent people cuss." She turned her crystalline eyes on him in a glare.

"And whoever said that is an idiot, because smart people cuss all the time. We're just more creative about it." He patted her head and stood.

"Yeah, I'd say that's accurate."

"Duh, Dave. I fucking said it." Oh my god, this kid was as bad as her mother! "Hey, Dave?" Janis questioned as he was leaving her room, "Do… will you come back?" He turned and stared at her.

"You think I should, kid?" The child nodded, sending her wavy hair bobbing. "Why?"

"I think you and my mom would be good friends… and since you're gay, people don't like you as much because they're igno-ingenor- STUPID. I think you need more friends." He smiled at her and moved across the room to pat her head again. She swatted at his hand this time.

"Yeah, kid, I think I will come back." As he was leaving the room, he tossed back, "The word is ignorant."

An indignant, "THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" answered him, and he walked down the hall smiling for the first time since Kurt visited him in the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all the people who have read this, and considered it. While I was originally dismayed at the lack of reviews, I realized that maybe I should write a bit more, let things unravel a bit, and maybe people can give me some concrit? Thanks to Orangepumpkins for their review, though. It definitely made me smile.

I know the beginning is slow, and I understand that readers want a bit of action to grab them, but this is a story of recovery, acceptance, and the what-if Kurtofsky. I don't take part in ship wars, so I will try to keep characters as close to canon as I can, but please don't harass me if you want an evil!Blaine or anything.

I don't own the rights to Glee or the characters, and I certainly don't own any songs that may be referenced or used in this story. If you would like to share your ideas, or even suppositions or thoughts, that's fine. PM me. I like the attention.

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><p>I Get By: Chapter 2<p>

Dinner was both complicated and simplistic. Macaroni and cheese with hotdogs and green beans had been the easy part. Sam slapping a small spiral bound memo pad in front of Dave as he sat at the booth was difficult. He turned a confused gaze at the woman's back as she prepared a plate for Janis, who had completed her homework and was playing Mario All Stars.

"What's this?" his voice rasped in trepadation. Dave glanced back down at it and noticed his name, and several bullet points. 'Feelings of low self-worth and insecurity seem to stem from societal pressures to fit in,' he read.

"Janis," Sam called the child away from the television for dinner, setting down her plate. "Those are my notes about you." David looked up again, and noticed Sam wore an open, honest expression. "I don't keep things from my patients, Dave, not unless they present a possible threat to themselves or others."

"Um, in case you missed the memo, I tried to off myself a month ago," he replied snarkily. Piling macaroni noodles onto his fork, he shoved them into his mouth to keep quiet as he kept reading. 'Great with middle school children; should consider an occupation as an educator, or perhaps involvement in a mentor program.'

"You did?" Janis asked, plunking herself across from him. She dug into her green beans first, and spoke around a mouthful, "Why? You're so awesome!" The tiny girl swigged her juice and belched pointedly.

"Janis!" Sam admonished, and Dave internally sighed in relief for the back-up. He did not want a little kid to get the wrong idea about him. But why was it the wrong idea? He was embarrassed and concerned that the bond they had already begun to forge would suddenly go up in flames.

"That was incredibly rude, young lady. Say excuse me!" The Smurf-head seated herself at the table, finally, and continued. "David was outed at school and was made fun of by people he thought were his friends. They cyber-bullied him, and made him feel very small and insignificant."

Her daughter nodded, waves bouncing slightly, collecting cheese into the ends. As she tisked and wiped them off, she inquired, "Like those kids from Trevor Project and stuff?" At Sam's nod, Janis turned to Dave. "You know, those people just don't understand. You can't choose who you love anymore than you can choose the eye color you're born with."

Tears began to sting his eyes suddenly. This child, no more than eight years old, understood more about acceptance than people twice her age. She reached her small hand into his, effectively forcing him to drop his fork. "You're beautiful, Dave. You are who you are. I think you're pretty freaking awesome." Janis smiled impishly, the mirror of her mother, and dropped his hand to dig back into her food with ferocity.

Unable to handle it, David excused himself and stepped onto the enclosed porch. He heard Sam tell Janis to slow down, the game would still be there, and soon, the front door opened. As she gingerly stepped onto the wooden planks, he became aware of just how much taller he was. Sam bowed her head, lighting a cigarette, before moving to the porch swing to sit, and that was when he noticed the jagged scar on the side of her head.

"I tried it, too, Dave," she said finally. He moved to sit with her, the swing creaking a bit under the added weight of his muscle. His hazel eyes searched her face, turned toward the street light on the park roadway. Her dark eyes were distant, reliving memories of past times. Sam held a wrist toward him. Smoke curled around as he stared at the wide scars marring her pale skin, giving leverage and realism to what he was seeing.

"I was in a relationship when I graduated high school. He was everything I ever wanted, or that I convinced myself I wanted. Graduation day, I moved out of my parents' house." She took a drag and continued, "My mother was devout Roman Catholic, and she was very verbally abusive. My father is bipolar, and I was the only one who knew. I couldn't stand being their referee, when my father had an episode and my mother tore him down, so I moved in with my boyfriend."

"About three months down the line, we were arguing more, and I had had a miscarriage. He blamed me, saying I had miscarried on purpose. That I just wanted sympathy." Her head dropped to observe her lap, and she inhaled again. "One night, he told me he was leaving me for someone who could carry his children. He knew I was bisexual, and told me that I could go spread my disease to others, because that's all I was good for."

"We had been getting steadily into drugs; weed, coke… whatever anybody had, really. I had begun to feel paranoid and uncomfortable in my own skin. A thought occurred to me then. If I were that uncomfortable in my own skin, then I guess I didn't need it." Her voice became quiet, as she turned her arms around and pulled up her sleeves higher. Dave could see more jagged, wide markings, and understood.

"I scratched myself so hard in anxiety and fear, I was literally filleting myself." Her fingertips grazed every scar, reliving her personal experience. "I didn't stop until one of his friends, the nicest person I have ever met, walked into the house to ask why my ex was storming down the street. He's the one who found me." Sam stubbed her cigarette out and stood, offering Dave a hand up.

He accepted and they moved to the door. "So… what happened next?" David asked, unable to keep the concern and empathy from his voice. Sam touched the scar on her head and smiled at him wryly.

"I stayed with him for three more years, until he died in a car accident along with our baby boy." He was struck dumb, as the petite woman before him opened the door and stepped up inside. The bright colors of the interior warred with her dark story, and he suddenly felt like an idiot.

"Come in and finish your dinner, David. Your father texted me, and will be here in a half hour." He realized, suddenly, that he had absolutely no idea who this woman in front of him was, but he had judged her just as unfairly as people had judged him. She smiled warmly, and offered her small hand to him again. Staring at it, Dave was overcome with the desire to trace the fine scars on her knuckles, to inquire more about her. To gain perspective.

Yes, he decided, he would continue to see her, if only to unravel the mystery of her life.

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><p>When Paul arrived, he was halted in his steps at the sight of his son playing video games with a middle school child. While he knew Ms. Collins had a child, for some reason, it didn't compute that the tyke would be in contact with his son. Sam greeted him, and Dave tossed a true smile his way.<p>

He was ushered into the kitchen and seated himself at the booth. A moment later, Sam joined him, pushing a cup of chamomile in his direction. While not normally a tea drinker, he was shocked at the resurgence of the son he used to know, and unwittingly sipped the best tea he had ever had.

"So, Paul, how did everything go?" She wasted no time in cutting to the chase, it seemed. It was an admirable quality, especially in a woman her age, to be honest and forthright. He sipped his tea again, if only to gain some purchase.

"Things went as well as they could at this point. Because she is his mother, she has asked for visitation, but only once a month. I managed to convince her lawyer that visitation should be dependant on how his therapy goes, and that I required she seek counseling, as well."

"I think that was only fair of you, Paul. May I voice a concern?" Hmm, while she was straightforward, she was also respectful. He nodded for her to continue. "I am concerned that she is discriminatory against lesbians and gays, and any progress made while Dave and I visit would be undone in one day around her. Perhaps you could require she attend PFFLAG meetings, even just once a month. She needs to be educated, and she needs to understand that David is still her son, the only son she has known."

Paul nodded again in agreement, and stroked his facial hair slightly. "I know that," he said finally, " And you know that. I don't think she understands that the only time David was someone she didn't recognize was when he was hiding himself. Now that he is out, he can be the kid he has always been. I've always been proud of my son, I just don't understand why she can't be." He drained his cup, and set it to the side.

"Well, Paul, it's always difficult when people who have been raised a specific way are suddenly challenged with what they've been taught was wrong. She feels justified in her anger and bigotry, because, for her, it's not bigotry. Now," she held up a hand at his spluttered indignation, "I'm not saying she is correct in her thinking, because hatred is hatred and it begets hatred. But maybe she is just as confused as Dave was. A little education could go a long way."

Sam slid a card his way, and he picked it up. "That is the local chapter of PFFLAG. Normally, I wouldn't advocate someone in Karen's position to immediately go to a meeting, I would suggest one-on-one counseling and then reintegration, but there is a gentleman there she might recognize. He is the deacon of the Federated church here in Lima, and he has a gay child." Sam drained her own cup, and moved to put the mugs in the sink.

"I think it just might do some good. Also, maybe you and David could attend when he's more comfortable. From what I understand, one of his former classmates goes with his father; Kurt and Burt Hummel?" She spun, leaning against the counter. Her keen eyes took in the change in Paul's demeanor. Sam wasn't stupid. She had read David's school records, had known there was a history with the Hummel boy.

From the living room, Dave boomed, "Kurt goes to PFFLAG?" She smirked. Paul was in a corner now. While it was easy to say he accepted his son, he had made no real effort to prove it. David needed to know that someone like his father, the man he had looked up to for so long, actually supported him.

She met Paul's eyes, and instantly she knew, there would be no problems here. "Yes, Dave. Kurt goes to PFFLAG," he replied for her. Paul twisted in the booth to regard his son, who was suddenly vibrating with energy. "Is that something you would like to go to?" At the insistent nod, Paul smiled, and Sam mirrored him.

This family would be okay. Now to figure out the situation with Kurt Hummel. She wasn't naïve. David's demeanor had changed drastically as soon as the other boy had been brought up. Monday morning would see another phone call to McKinley for the records of one Kurt Hummel.

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><p>AN: please note, the story Samantha told is real. Certain facts have been glossed over, or straight up omitted, but it did really happen, except for the car accident.<p>

Also, let me know what you thought, what I could fix, etc. I love constructive criticism. I accept PM's and my personal email address is forsakenkalika(at)gmail(dot)com - obviously, ffnet does not like links, so adjust accordingly.


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, hi! Yeah, lost the muse for a bit, then I hog-tied the bitch and dragged her back. Let me know what you think.

I definitely do not own Glee or any related properties, nor do I own any of the rights to the songs contained herein.

EDIT 1:27PM EST - HOLY CONTINUITY ERRORS, BATMAN! So I realized in earlier chapters, Janis was 8 years old. I prefer her as thirteen or fourteen, so those chapters will be edited to reflect this change. Also, the story of her being beaten up was based on a Justin Bieber fan who was beaten up at school for wearing one of his shirts. It circulated facebook yesterday.

Honestly, I know alot of younger readers are on here, and all I have to say is, anyone who is going to beat you up because you like a certain type of music is jealous of and threatened by your freedom to like said music. I'm not partial to Bieber, but I'm certainly not going to initiate violence because someone has different taste.

If you don't know the pic I'm talking about on fb, it is easily accessible through an Ashton Butcher. It is a gross display of blatant hatred, and I hope whoever did that to this poor girl gets exactly what they deserve; expulsion and community service, as well as mandatory counseling and hours in tolerance classes.

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><p>I Get By: Chapter 3<p>

Kurt Hummel was damn gorgeous! Samantha had called McKinley and within 20 minutes, the school records of one Kurt Hummel were faxed over. He retained mostly A's, so he was intelligent, and was an active member of the Glee Club, so he was talented, as well. What threw her off, however, was the small amount of time he had spent on the football team, and the lapse in his records.

'Dalton Academy?' she wondered, noting his transfer was due to 'an altercation.' An altercation with whom and about what? She noted the selection with a colored tab, and reminded herself to ask David later.

In the short time she had been seeing the younger Karofsky man, Sam had grown to enjoy his company. He was messed up, yeah, but who wasn't when they were a teenager? If anyone understood, it was Sam, recalling her own high school existence. A shudder ripped through her and she turned the page in Kurt's file. A picture smiled demurely up at her.

Blue-grey eyes, belying an intelligence and maturity behind them, offset his feminine face. While she wasn't one to jump to conclusions, she knew off the bat that this young man was gay. His skin was pale and flawless, hair perfectly coiffed. He had taken the time to rub some gloss on his lips before the picture was snapped, it seemed. His smile shimmered in the resulting flash, and she detected a hint of snark behind the simper.

If this kid was this good-looking, it was no wonder Dave nearly jumped at the opportunity to see him. She wondered if Kurt might be the deciding factor of whether or not Dave transferred back to McKinley. He still hadn't been back to school, work having been sent home to him, and it was unlikely he would want to return to Thurston anyway.

With Dave, she knew, mentioning school would be a touchy subject. Rather than hide the fact that she had requested Kurt's records, she would tell him and ask for his thoughts about McKinley. Perhaps asking for his opinions and just listening to what he had to say would be the key to unlocking more of this Dave/Kurt mystery.

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><p>Kurt smirked as he read Dave's latest text.<p>

'Seeing a therapist, and I'm fairly certain she's crazy – Dave'

His glasz eyes flicked toward the teacher, droning on about sine and cosine, and typed a quick response. 'Who is she, and do you at least like her – Elphaba'

He had to admit, from Dave's text, he was curious to find out who this woman was. On one hand, he was grateful to Mr. Karofsky for understanding that his son needed help. He remembered the pain in Paul's eyes when he visited David in the hospital, and knew that David's father knew his son was gay… and was just happy he was alive.

On the other hand, however, he felt Dave might take his father's insistence on finding a suitable therapist badly. Maybe seeing it as a way to 'fix' his gay son. Kurt himself knew it was different. He knew Paul was trying to get his son back, gay or otherwise, but Kurt also knew David's mother had been the one to try to pray the gay away.

'Her name is Samantha Collins. I guess she's alright.' Kurt rolled his eyes. 'Really, Dave?' He had no sooner informed Dave that he would need more information when he received another text.

'Coffee at 4?' His eyes widened. David never wanted to go out for coffee. Usually their meetings would take place at David's house when Paul was still at work. He texted a quick confirmation and looked up just in time for Mr. Newfield to turn around and fix his dead stare on Kurt.

"Mr. Hummel, given a hypotenuse of 1, an adjacent of .291, and an opposite of .956, what are the sine, cosine, and tangent of this triangle?" Really? Fish eyes was going to attempt to bust him using trigonometry. Quickly doing the calculations on his scientific calculator, Kurt raised his stare from his scrap work.

"The sine and cosine of the triangle are the same as the adjacent and opposite; .291 and.956, respectively." As he took a breath, the teacher smirked, obviously thinking he had stumped Kurt. Rather than snark at the teacher, Kurt opted to pull his phone out and text a reply to David, while calmly continuing.

"Because the hypotenuse has a value of 1, the tangent, of course, has a value of 3.285."

'Sounds great. The Bean? Btw, you would laugh at the look on Newfield's face.' As he pressed 'send,' Kurt regarded his teacher again. Face red, obviously fuming, Mr. Newfield turned back to the board and worked out the math himself, to check Kurt's work.

Resigned, he finally stated an affirmative, and turned to another student to harass. Kurt's phone vibrated once more. 'Actually, I was thinking you might like to meet her.' An address soon followed.

* * *

><p>Dave nearly choked on the toast he was crunching. "Everything alright?" His father's voice sounded behind him. He raised his phone to his father, not trusting his own voice. "Oh, so Kurt will be joining you and Sam?" David nodded and sipped his juice.<p>

"Yeah," he replied finally, sure that he would not burst into a coughing fit from the displace crumbs in his throat. "I mentioned him the last time we hung out, and she seemed interested in meeting him."

Paul cleared his throat and moved around the small table in the breakfast nook, which had piled up with mail and work papers. "Dave… this whole bullying thing with Kurt… was it…?" He left the unasked question dangling in the air, like a carrot, hoping David would take the bait and open up. He was not disappointed.

"Yeah, dad, it was." Hazel eyes met Paul's in uncertainty, and, upon seeing no judgment, David continued. "I bullied Kurt because, well, because I was jealous of him, and I was trying to come to terms with the way I felt when I saw him. After he transferred, I realized my actions were wrong… so wrong." He coughed into his hand and waited for the reply.

"I figured," Paul replied in a forced nonchalant tone. David smiled a bit and looked back up at his dad. "I mean, it was easy to see the boy meant a lot to you. I was just waiting for you to tell me why. But, Buddy, do me a favor?" At David's questioning stare, he elaborated. "When you have a crush, talk to me about it. It makes no difference to me if it's a boy or a girl, as long as you're happy."

David nodded, not trusting any words to come out, once again. When he was sure he could speak again, he trailed into the foyer where his father was putting his work shoes on. "Hey dad? Um… do you think we can maybe look into me transferring back?"

"To McKinley?" Paul's surprise filled the small space near the open door. Dave nodded. "Well, I think Kurt's been a great friend to you, and due to the surprising amount of flowers sent to you from that glee club he's in, I would say you may have some good support." Paul stood, placing his hands on the taller man's shoulders.

"Tell you what, talk to Kurt today, and talk to Sam about it. If they both agree, then I see no reason we can't set up a meeting with Mr. Figgins about transferring you back." Paul's heart swelled at the joy on his son's face. "But, David, don't hide yourself. Not from me, not from anyone. If you're having a hard time, tell me. That's what I'm here for." He gave David a quick squeeze and turned to grasp the door handle.

"I love you, dad." Paul smiled and replied in kind, head swiveling to look once again at the son he thought he had lost. "And, uh, I'm prolly gonna clean up today before I go to Sam's. Um… do you want me to look over some of those files, and see if maybe I can find something you missed? I know you've been looking for a paralegal…"

"That would be great, David. You've always had an eye for details." Paul closed the door behind him and nearly burst into tears. He definitely had his son back.

* * *

><p>David arrived at Sam's, shortly after his tutor had left him for the day, feeling accomplished and excited. "Hey, Sam! Janis, where you at?" The response was delayed, and spurred David into motion quickly.<p>

"We're in Janis's room, David!" Sam exited and closed the door behind her. She wiped her face quickly and turned to him.

"What's wrong?"

The small woman had redone her hair to bleach blonde, and she nearly glowed in the dark hallway. "Janis was beaten up in school." Her hands shot out to stop David from bursting into the teenager's room. "It's over, I handled it. Coffee?" She never gave him a chance to decline. She simply grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen.

"She wore a shirt she just got, a really cool Tokio Hotel one, and some kids were making fun of the band and, by proxy her."

"Why?" He was confused. Since when does the music one listens to give others a right to bully them? It was not like this when he was a kid.

"Because the lead singer is androgynous. They pushed her down, and one of the girls in her gym class started punching her, calling her names and saying she was peeking at them while they changed." Sam was surprisingly calm for being a mother whose child was just assaulted.

David's blood turned cold. "What kind of names?" Sam didn't answer verbally. Just looked at him with a quirk of her eyebrow. David let a breath out and shook his head. "Really? I mean, yeah, it's hypocritical of me to say anything, but I would like to think I've graduated beyond that kind of blind hatred and ignorance."

"I think so," came the response behind him. He twisted in the booth seat and finally looked at Janis. Her face had been cleaned up, but stitches adorned her cheekbone, and the opposite eye had been blackened. She quirked her lips at his reaction. "Really, David, don't be mad. I think it makes me look kind of badass."

He snorted and nodded. "Yeah, it kind of does, munchkin. How do you feel?" The petite teen grabbed his cup of coffee and flounced off, leaving a snarky reply in her wake.

"Like I got sucker punched by a chick that hits like a bitch." Dave laughed, turning back to Sam with a thumb pointed.

"She's your kid, all right." She smiled in response, but it was tight. Forced. "Hey, you alright?"

Samantha sighed, rubbing her head. "Yeah, just… worried. We spoke to the school about it, and the girl is going to be expelled, due to the motivations. Figgins is considering it a hate crime. It's just…" She trailed off, sighing once more.

"You know, I'm surprised Figgins is doing that. When I bullied Kurt, Figgins had stepped down, and Sue Sylvester was acting Principle. She had brought expulsion to the table, but it never went further than suspension." He stood, grabbing another mug and filling it with creamer and coffee. He held up the creamer bottle, raising one eyebrow. "Almond Joy?"

His therapist laughed. "Sometimes you feel like a nut, Dave. And sometimes you don't." He leaned against the counter by the sink and eyed the time. "Clock do something to offend you?"

Dave snorted, "No. I forgot to ask you if it's okay, but I sort of invited a friend today. He was interested in meeting the woman I can't seem to describe. With everything going on, though, it sort of slipped my mind." A blush rose on his cheeks.

"What time is he supposed to be here?" No sooner was the question asked than a knock sounded at the door. "Come in!" Sam called, curious to see who said friend was. She had an inkling, and sure enough, she was not disappointed. "Ah… Kurt Hummel. I'm Samantha Collins."

* * *

><p>Kurt pulled the Navigator into the park, obeying the speed signs with a respect unheard of by most people. Judging by the amount of kids toys in some of the lawns, the signs were there for a reason. He regarded the message with the address again, and found David's car in the driveway. With no place to park, he simply pulled off the thoroughfare and slightly onto the grass in front of the fence.<p>

The trailer was quaint, to say the least. The lawn was neatly mowed, flowers impeccably cared for. A shed sat along the side of the house, doors closed and locked with a large, heavy-duty lock. Upon noticing that, he clicked the fob and heard the chirp of his alarm.

Stepping onto the porch, Kurt surveyed its contents. An obvious update to the pre-existing porch, it extend back about halfway across the trailer. A swing was set up at the far end, with a small table at its side. Comfortable chairs, Adirondack made from the looks of them, sat stationed around another small table. A Hibachi grill was tucked beneath, with grilling utensils in a ceramic bin nearby.

Realizing he had dallied long enough, he opened the screen and knocked twice. His heart was pounding as he turned the handle, not having seen David since the hospital. Kurt stepped up and into a brightly decorated house. The inner designer clapped and squealed at the complimentary tones of the walls and furniture. Whoever this person was had style. No sooner did the thought occur than he noticed a crocheted rainbow patterned throw blanket haphazardly thrown onto the sectional.

Yeesh. Nevermind. "Ah… Kurt Hummel." Hearing his name, Kurt raised his gaze to the woman standing from a booth in the kitchen. David stood off to the side, grinning like a fool. "I'm Samantha Collins." She swept forward, and he cringed. What was she wearing?

Obviously having had bleached her hair earlier, it was almost stark white. Piercings glittered on her face and tattoos were visible on her arms. Not more than 5'6", she was hardly imposing, but definitely created quite the picture. Dark, wide legged pants swept around her form, and a white wife beater rose just above her bellybutton.

Samantha held her hand out to him, and as they shook, he was surprised at the sureness of her grip. She was not limp wristed, nor did she grasp his hand too tightly. Her eyes never strayed from his, and her smile was warm and open. "Coffee?" She asked.

* * *

><p>David was fighting the urge to guffaw at the confusion that wafted around Kurt like thick cologne. As he and Sam walked into the kitchen, Dave whispered, "She has that effect on people," and was pleased to see Kurt relax. David turned to Sam, "I'm sorry I didn't ask first, Sam. It was sort of an impulsive thing." She waved him off and grinned.<p>

"I had planned on having Kurt here at some point, anyway. He is a huge part of who you are and has been a pillar of support for your self-acceptance. Kurt," the now blonde turned to the fashionista, "You're welcome any time."

"Uh… okay…" For once, Kurt was stuck without anything to say. Oh yes, David thought, this was going to be an interesting afternoon.


End file.
